Merlin Art Fest 2014
by IWannaBeBrilliant
Summary: These are my submissions for the Merlin Art Fest 2014. I'm doing all of the prompts, so there will be four chapters.
1. Alone, Cold, Dying

It's cold. It's dark. It's silent except for the rain that won't stop falling on Arthur's head; the pattering has grown monotonous. He shivers and wraps his cape more tightly around him. It is full of holes and tears from the brambles he had fallen through when he had tumbled down into this pit and does little to keep the cold and wet out. A part of it feels wet and he cannot tell if the wetness is from the rain or if it is his own blood. He can smell the blood, a sickening metallic smell that always fills the tourney stadiums. Usually this smell means that Arthur has defeated the other combatant, but he knows that, right now, the smell means that he is going to die.

He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping that maybe this is just a dream and he'll wake up in his chambers with Merlin smiling at him with that goofy grin of his. He desperately wishes that Merlin would call out one of his stupid morning greetings and pull Arthur out of this awful nightmare. For a moment he thinks he can feel the soft, freshly-washed sheets. He thinks he smells his breakfast instead of the sourness of blood. He thinks he hears Merlin's soft footsteps as he tidies the room, waiting for Arthur to wake up. When he opens his eyes, however, he is still in the pit, still bleeding, rain still falling on him, still alone. Still dying.

"Argh!" He yells. He flails around, trying to pull himself out of the hole. He groans and hisses when the movement jolts his broken arm and pulls his lacerations apart. Arthur feels tears roll down his face and he succumbs to the sobs that rack his body. He shakes, curling into himself, and tries to wipe the tears from his face. When he pulls his hand away, it is sticky. He knows it must his blood and it makes him angry. He clenches his fist and hits the ground next to him with a weak yell. This is not fair. He just wants to be back home in his bed with Merlin tending to his every need. Gods, he misses Merlin. Merlin, who could fix everything. Merlin, who could keep Arthur alive. Merlin, who is too far away to pull Arthur out of death's grip.

After a moment, the anger seeps out of him and he lies back against the side of the pit. This is not fair. He closes his eyes again and concentrates on the ground beneath him. It's made of hard clay that is turning soft with each drop of rain. He thinks about how annoyed Merlin will be when he sees what a mess he's made of his cape. Merlin always hates when Arthur gets unnecessarily dirty. The clay is more comfortable than he would have expected. Arthur decides that this isn't the worst place to die. He lets his arms fall to the side, a hissing breath escaping his lips when his broken arm hits the ground. Perhaps he should try to climb out of the pit again. He considers this option for a moment before deciding that he is too tired. Instead he relaxes against the ground and listens to the rain. It is a beautiful sound. He never stopped to appreciate it before, but he is certain that it is even more beautiful when it is heard hitting the castle walls while one sits by a nice, warm fire. He allows himself a small smile before forcing his eyes open and his mind back to his current situation.

This pit is horrid. It is muddy and wet and he can feel infections forming in his wounds. He knows that he is going to die here. And he knows that it is all his fault. He should have waited for his knights before charging in. But Arthur does not need help; Arthur charges in and defeats the enemies, regardless of whether or not he's alone. So Arthur charged into the bandit camp alone. He had felt absolutely invincible. He had been certain that he could easily defeat the bandits. He was quickly outnumbered and forced to flee. And then, already injured from the fight, he fell into this hole. And now he is going to die here and no one will find his body.

Perhaps that is not so bad, though. After all, it is better to die from battle wounds than lying in some bed, dying from old age. Merlin is always saying that that opinion is ridiculous and Arthur's priorities are drastically out of order. Maybe Merlin is right. Arthur wishes that his body would at least be found, but he knows that is very unlikely. Arthur decides that there is nothing he can do either way and that he is tired. He knows that no one is coming.

Suddenly, there is a light above him, like a star. It is distant and tiny but it seems to be growing or getting closer, Arthur can't tell which. His eyes are getting heavy and he doesn't think he can stay conscious. He wants to wait until the light gets to him, but he is suddenly sure that the light is not real. There is no hope for him, so he let his eyes close. As he slipped off to sleep, a peaceful, calm sleep, he hears something land next to him and then he thinks he hears Merlin's voice.


	2. Scars and Betrayal

Two armies faced each other on an empty field, rain pouring down and extinguishing their torches. One army stood behind a tall blond man in a scarlet cape. The other army stood behind a lankly, black haired man. The two leaders watched each other without moving. After a moment, the blond man raised a hand in greeting, but the other man paid him no attention.

"Merlin." The word broke the silence like a glass upon the banquet hall floor. "Merlin, this is ridiculous. Let's end this. We can call of this fight. Come back to Camelot and we can solve this diplomatically."

Merlin almost nods. He almost smiles and agrees to go back with Arthur, to go home. He looks down at his hands, turning them over and tracing the scars with his eyes. Could he really do it? Could he join Arthur again? _No._ Part of him wanted to, but Arthur had betrayed him and Camelot was no longer his home. He closed his eyes and his mind floated back to the day he got these scars.

_He had been working for Arthur for a few years and he decided it was time to reveal his secret. He knew, he thought, he could trust Arthur. He was wrong. He met Arthur in his chambers and closed the door. He had taken a breath and started to speak._

_"__Arthur. I have something to tell you." When Arthur turned toward him, Merlin met his eyes. "I know this is going to be hard for you to hear, but I... I have magic. I'm a sorcerer. I'm the one who summoned that hurricane in Ealdor. I've been using magic to help you ever since I arrived in Camelot."_

_Arthur stared at him for a moment before he suddenly grabbed Merlin by the neck and dragged him over to the table. He shoved him into the chair and stared down at him. "You have magic? You have used magic IN MY CASTLE, IN MY PRESENCE?"_

_"__Um, yes?"_

_Arthur glared at him and grabbed his dagger. He pinned Merlin's hands to the table top with a hand. Before Merlin could even speak, Arthur carved a deep gashed across his palms. As Merlin cried out, Arthur drew the knife over his palm and fingers over and over again. Each stroke brought another cry from Merlin's lips._

_When he was finished, Arthur dropped the knife on the floor and pulled Merlin out of the chair by his shirt. Merlin cradled his hands as he was dragged through the castle. Arthur had thrown him down the steps._

_"__Leave. For the sake of our past, I won't kill you now. But if you ever return, I will. Leave."_

_Merlin had thought that Arthur was different from Uther, but clearly he was wrong. He had hoped that Arthur would bring magic back to the kingdom. He looked up at the man who had been his friend and held his hands closer to his body. He shot one more glare in Arthur's direction before he turned and walked, calmly, out of the gates._

Merlin looked at his hands again. Every time he looked at his hands, Merlin saw the same thing. He always remembered how he had gotten the scars. And that always brought him back. It always reminded him that he could not trust Arthur.

"No." Merlin's voice rang out across the battle field. "No, Arthur, we cannot."

He raised his hand, arm extended in front of him, and his eyes shown gold. The war had begun.


	3. Never Could Believe

Never would Merlin have believed that this could happen. Never would he have hoped that his magic would be accepted. Never, even in his most secret dreams, had he ever seen himself using magic in the open. He was standing in the council chamber, behind Arthur's chair, as the official court sorcerer. In his arms was the book of magic he had hidden for years. He now used the contents to protect Camelot and his king.

As he listened to Arthur talk about strategy and border disputes, Merlin let his mind wander back to the day he revealed his magic to Arthur. As Arthur was dying in his arms, he told him. Arthur had not believed him at first, but eventually Merlin convinced him. He had hoped that Arthur's acceptance of him would be instant, but it was not. Even after he saved Arthur's life, Arthur had thrown him in the dungeon for almost half a year.

Eventually, however, Arthur did forgive him. He realized that Merlin was still the silly servant who couldn't do anything right. He offered Merlin a position in his council and Merlin had taken it with more than complete willingness.

Now, in the council chambers, he stepped forward at Arthur's command and opened the book. As he read the spell, giving a simple demonstration, he could he the words float off the page and around the room. Between the letters, he saw the shimmer of magic, a bright gold that matched his eyes. Looking around at the members of the council, he saw the awed looks of the knights. When his eyes landed on Arthur, he could tell that Arthur was seeing what he saw. More than just the spell, Arthur was beginning to see the magic behind it.

After the council meeting, Merlin followed Arthur back to the king's chambers. Merlin immediately began tidying the table and preparing the king's dinner. Once the plate had been set down in front Arthur, he moved on to turning down the covers of the bed and stoking the fire.

"Merlin."

He looked up in response to his name. Arthur was looking at him with a bemused look on his face.

"Merlin, you know that you are not my servant anymore, right? Sit down and have some dinner." Arthur gestured to the chair and plate across from him.

The sorcerer smiled and sat down, picking at his food. "I don't think the knights trust me."

"Of course they do. And even if they don't, they won't do anything about it. I trust you and that is what is important, right?"

Merlin smiled little and continued eating. They finished eating in silence and went over more plans before Merlin went back to his room. He still lived in the small chamber off Gaius's chambers even though he had been offered a larger one. He couldn't relax in the huge, empty chamber.

As he set the book of magic on the table beside his bed, Merlin still could not believe that this was how it was.


End file.
